


Parchment Scroll Writer

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-05
Updated: 2005-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12411735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: “Bloody hell, Potter, this is…awful. Pathetic, really. I mean, just dreadful. Where in the hell did you learn to write like this?”�





	1. Draft One: It's A Steady Job, But...

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Title:** Parchment Scroll Writer: Draft One [ I / III ]  
 **Author:** **_carondelet_** // **_carondelet11_**  
 **Character(s) / Pairing:** Lily Evans/James Potter  
 **Rating:** PG-13 (mild language)  
 **Notes:** originally published 04 February 2005 \\\ 1848  
 **Word Count:** 3,330  
 **Spoilers:** Books 1-5  
 **Summary:** “Bloody hell, Potter, this is…awful. Pathetic, really. I mean, just dreadful. Where in the hell did you learn to write like this?”�  
 **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters, settings, and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling as published by, including and not limited, to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The use of these characters and settings is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement is intended or should be inferred.

 

**___________________________________________**

**PARCHMENT SCROLL WRITER**

[] DRAFT ONE: OR, IT’S A STEADY JOB, BUT...

**___________________________________________**

 

**He was huddled** over a scrap of parchment, jealously guarding the contents from prying eyes. He had placed himself at the end of the Gryffindor table so as not to have any nosey neighbours and was quite obviously making the most of his solitude. The feather tip of his quill waved in the air furiously, signalling his intense concentration on whatever it was that he was writing.

So, naturally, his best mates decided to ~~interrupt him~~ — erm, suss out the situation.

“Oi, wot’s all this then? You gettin’ all swotty on us?”� asked Sirius Black, in his best and loudest Bleedin’ Obnoxious Bloke voice. He plonked loudly into the empty space next to James Potter and craned his neck to have a butchers at what his mate was writing.

“Never you mind,”� Potter growled, his eyebrows knitting into a frown behind his round spectacles. He slid the parchment away from Black, who put on a face of mock indignation, and pushed it nearly into Remus Lupin, who had taken a seat to Potter’s left.

Lupin gave him a toothy grin. “What about me, you are going to tell me, right?”�

Potter snorted noisily and rolled his eyes. “No.”�

Lupin’s face fell at that. Black sniggered and waggled his eyebrows at him, smirking. Lupin pulled a face and gave Black the fingers.

Potter heaved an aggravated sigh and tried to ignore the two of them. He attempted to place himself squarely in the seat, offering no view of the parchment to the leering boys on either side. He was met with the inquisitive face of Peter Pettigrew, who had taken a seat opposite him on the other side of the table.

“Would you show me?”� he asked with a smile, the one he used when he was asking after one of their female classmates for a date.

“You get the same answer: no.”� Potter scowled, bent his head over the parchment, and continued to write.

Three-fourths of the Marauders looked to one another quizzically. It was quite apparent that straight-forward would not be the tactic this day. The three adopted thoughtful miens: Lupin pursed his lips in thought; Black ran his hand through his hair; Pettigrew tapped a fingertip against his chin. After a moment, the threesome smiled and Lupin tipped the nod to Black and Pettigrew. Both immediately caught onto his meaning.

It was time for Good Copper, Bad Copper, Nark.

Black effortlessly slipped into character. “Bloody hell, Prongs, I can’t believe that you’re actually writing that damned Arithmancy essay....”� Then he leaned in close, practically placing his head on Potter’s shoulder. “ARE YOU?”� he barked into his ear.

“Merlin!”� he spat, cringing away from Black. Despite the attempt to scare him off of the scroll, Potter still managed to keep his arms across the parchment, concealing the contents. Pettigrew, the Nark, shrugged at Black and Lupin, signalling his failure at divining the contents.

“Now, now, Sirius, there’s no need to be nasty to the chap,”� said Lupin, in his best Good Copper voice. He casually placed an arm across Potter’s shoulders and absently patted one arm. “I’m sure our James is simply drawing up a game plan for the match this weekend. Right?”� He smiled rather endearingly at Potter.

Potter merely scowled again and shrugged Lupin off. “Geroff, Moony. You’re after playing Good Copper. Don’t think that I don’t know. Half the time I’m —”� and here he jabbed an ink-stained thumb into his own robes to punctuate the word “–the Good Copper.”�

“And Padfoot is always the Bad Copper,”� Lupin sighed. “That’s not fair now, is it?”� he asked, with a bit of a pout.

Black appeared to be quite put out by the statement. “And wot’s wrong with my being the Bad Copper?”�

“You could let one of us have a go at it ever so often,”� said Lupin, still pouting.

Sirius laughed loudly, pounding his hand against the table’s surface. “Who of you would make for a convincing Bad Copper?”� He sniggered, thoroughly enjoying the idea of someone other than him being Bad Copper. He thought for a moment, surveying his group of friends. Then he chuckled, “Shall we let Wormtail play at it next time?”� and sneered at the smaller boy.

At this Pettigrew straightened up in his seat. He cleared his throat. “Well, why not? I should make a decent Bad Copper.”�

This made Lupin and Black laugh, and even Potter offered a snicker. “Ah, no, Peter, don’t think so,”� laughed Remus.

“Why not?”�

“Wormtail. Come now. You’ve not taken leave of your senses, have you?”� Sirius snorted and shook his head in a negative. “You can hardly play the heavy when we’re taking the piss with Snivellus.”�

Pettigrew scrunched his round face into a frown and clucked his tongue. “Just because I can’t be as mean to him as you can be...”�

“You accusin’ me of being mean, Wormtail?”� asked Sirius, leaning forward on the table. He narrowed his eyes at the smaller boy across from him.

Pettigrew leaned forward as well, almost meeting Black in the middle. “What if I am, Padfoot?”�

James, who had been attempting to ignore his friends in order to concentrate on concealing and writing on his parchment, looked up warily and watched the faces of Pettigrew and Black. There was something about the tone of their voices that drew his attentions away from his scroll.

Sirius was shaking his head. “Ah, mate, you should not want to start with me...”�

“What if I do? What if I’m tired of you being so mean all of the time? You’re nothing more than a savage, a dirty great bully.”� Pettigrew slowly stood up, his hand moving to the inside of his robes.

“No, you bloody don’t,”� began Black, also rising from his seat, hand moving to his wand.

Potter quickly got to his feet, his face noticeably pale at the prospect of the two of them having a duel in the Great Hall. He put a hand out to each of them to stay their wands. “Wait a tick, it’s not worth a duel. Just don’t do anything....”� At that moment, he heard the sound of rustling parchment and footsteps beating a hasty retreat. It was then that he knew exactly what had transpired. They’d had him. With one of his very own moves. It was the Looky Loo. They’d pulled the Looky Loo on him and he’d fallen for it. “BOLLOCKS!”� he swore with a shout.

He whipped around to see Remus Lupin sprinting for the doors. Sirius threw his head back and roared with laughter and Peter nearly doubled over with his chuckling.

Potter glared at them in wide-eyed shock and anger, swore revenge on the next three generations of Blacks and Pettigrews, and then tore off after Lupin.

“DAMMIT, LUPIN, STOP RUNNING!”�

“The bloody hell I’m not, Potter! You’ll hurt me!”�

“I won’t hurt you!”�

“Really?!”�

“No, I’m just **_GOING TO KILL YOU!_** ”�

“ **Bugger that!** ”�

They burst through the doorway of the Great Hall, sped though the Entrance Hall, down the corridors, and into the Courtyard, where Potter launched himself into the air and tackled Lupin with such aplomb that the Muggle-borns witnessed to it thought it a pity that he played Quidditch and not rugger.

“OOF!”� Lupin, who had a rabid Potter on his back, had landed on the grass very hard. The parchment came out of his hand and started to roll toward the middle of the Courtyard. Immediately, he and Potter began a mad scramble for the scroll, clawing, punching, kneeing, and shoving one another in the process as they crawled and scraped for the parchment. Potter put his hand to Lupin’s head, mashing his nose. 

They heard running and a familiar voice bark with laughter, “Right in the konk!”�

“Dabbit, Pottwer, schtop dhat!”� Lupin gave him a sound thump to the head in retaliation. “Dhat huwrt, you git!

“One to the bonce!”� howled the voice again in amusement, though much closer this time.

“Bloody hell, Black’s doing commentary?”� James gasped, clasping his head in both hands. Then, to Remus he said, “That hurt, you wanker!”� They continued to struggle for the parchment, albeit slower now thanks to the wounds they were inflicting upon one another.

They heard the laughter immediately behind them. Black and Pettigrew had followed from the Great Hall, and Black was apoplectic with amusement at the sight of his two mates crawling through the grass after a bit of paper. Pettigrew was leaning against a pillar, wiping tears from his eyes.

“DON’T YOU TWO LOVEBIRDS STOP ON OUR ACCOUNT!”� Black howled, doubling over.

Both Lupin and Potter swore rather colourfully and gave Black and Pettigrew the fingers. This only served to set them to laughing even more. Lupin and Potter scowled venomously, and then started to clamber for the parchment again. Potter made it close enough to the scroll to just touch the end with his fingertips, but a brutal knee by Lupin sucked the wind out of him. Lupin made a desperate grab for the scroll and then staggered to his feet and away from Potter, who gave Lupin the most poisonous glare he could manage while curled in the grass in the foetal position, groaning.

James heard moans of commiseration from all boys present, including Black and Pettigrew. Black noticeably moaned the loudest at Lupin’s action. He lamented something about, “right in the goolies, too!”� Potter idly wondered if Black hadn’t been at the receiving end of the business at some point. Knowing Black, he had probably been clipped quite a few times for his sundry transgressions.

When James had regained enough of his senses to breathe properly, he made reference to Lupin in a rather vulgar manner by using a Muggle turn of phrase, one that had the Muggle-born girls gasping and shrieking in disgust. “You’re a swine, Potter!”� a random female voice shouted from the periphery. Another shouted something along the lines of “get stuffed”�.

“Not right now, love,”� Potter gasped through grit teeth. “I’m afraid me and James Junior aren’t quite up to it.”� He watched through teary eyes as Lupin sat himself on the ground, unfurled the scroll, and began to read. James groaned again, shut his eyes, and curled into a ball. “Remus, you’re a berk,”� he grunted.

Lupin cast an apologetic glance at the prone boy. “Listen, mate, I am sorry, but you forced my knee, so to speak.”� Lupin held the parchment before him and began to read from it. James cautiously and slowly opened his eyes to watch for Lupin’s reaction. He saw the other boy’s face move from interested, to perplexed, to irritated, to simple dismay. Lupin looked from the scroll to James and then back again several times.

Pettigrew, who had recovered from his laughing fit ahead of Black, slowly walked over and stood by Lupin. “Remus, what is it?”�

Lupin blinked and stared at James, who rolled over onto his back to face the sky. He lay with his arms spread from his sides, his feet together. He thought it to be an appropriate position for the pissing about that was scheduled to occur. He thought that it would be most convenient if, at that moment, a dark storm cloud would pass overhead and send a lighting bolt his way. Or perhaps an earthquake. A highly localised earthquake. Right beneath him. The earth could swallow him whole. Yes, a localised earthquake. That would not be a bad thing.

Remus flicked another glance between Potter and the scroll and then openly boggled at the parchment in his hand. “Bloody hell, Potter,”� he said slowly, “this is…awful. Pathetic, really. I mean, just dreadful. Where in the hell did you learn to write like this?”�

“Write like what?”� asked Black, who had finally made it over to the group. He stood behind Lupin, who raised the scroll so Sirius could read the parchment from over his shoulder. “Oh.”� Black glanced at Potter. “ _Oh._ ”� Then he cast a look back at the parchment. “OH.”�

“Oh, stuff it,”� James said. He didn’t even bother to look at his friends. He was concentrating on getting that earthquake.

Pettigrew walked over to Black and Lupin, his curiosity piqued. “What is that?”� He started to read from over Lupin’s shoulder. He flicked a glance at Potter, who was now squinting at the threesome. Peter opened his mouth to say something.

“Not a word, Wormtail. Not a bleedin’ word.”�

Pettigrew immediately closed his mouth.

Black took the parchment from Lupin and stalked over to where Potter was lying. He sat down on the grass next to him, crossed his legs, and waved the scroll. “Right, you. Explain this.”�

“It’s a parchment. **My** bloody parchment. Can I kindly have it back now?”� Potter extended his hand. Black gave his hand a swat with the parchment. “OUCH. GIT.”�

“You get it back when you. Explain. What. This. Is.”� Black unfurled the parchment and cleared his throat. “ _‘This feeling that he held inside of him...one of intense longing...a never to be sated dissatisfaction with his self-imposed loneliness...the longing could only be negated by her. Her smile, her laugh, her...’_ ”� Sirius twisted his face into a moue of disgust and shuddered. “What is this bloody twaddle?”�

“If I tell you, you’ll give it back?”�

Black appeared to be slightly affronted by the question. He paused, seemed to consider the implication, and then frowned at Potter. “Well, yes,”� said Black slowly.

“He will,”� confirmed Pettigrew, who had taken a seat on the grass next to Potter.

“I’ll make him,”� added Lupin, who was now sitting next to Pettigrew.

At this Black scowled darkly. “I’d like to see you try, mate,”� he snapped. He nudged Potter in the stomach with the parchment. “So. What’s this?”�

“It’s...”� James closed his eyes and folded his arms over his head. “It’s...candyfloss.”�

There a pause and then Pettigrew said, “No, I’m pretty sure it’s parchment.”�

“No...”� Potter sighed in aggravation. “The writing. The writing style. The story. It’s candyfloss.”�

Lupin and Black traded baffled glances. “What is that supposed to mean?”� asked Remus.

“Yeah, how is... _‘burning in his loins’_ and _‘ripping the robes off of her’_ — damn, I really ought to get a copy of this bit — how is this candyfloss?”� muttered Sirius.

Potter sighed again. “It’s what the girls call it. That kind of writing. It’s insubstantial, light, airy, sugary, with a lot of snogging and shagging. They call it candyfloss or sometimes just floss.”� He appeared to be embarrassed by the line of questioning.

“The girls call it this?”� asked Lupin in wonderment.

“Yeah. Some of the lads as well.”�

Peter was gobsmacked. “You’re joking,”� he murmured, looking from Lupin to Black.

“You have got to be bloody joking!”� bellowed Sirius. “Unless these lads are Rabastan and Regulus, or Rosier or Fartbottom, or even the lesser Prewett...or Snivellus! Yes, please, let it be Snivellus...”�

Lupin shook his head and rolled his eyes. He sighed, “Restrain yourself, Padfoot; it’s obvious that Prongs here has a problem.”�

Black snorted. “There’s no problem if Rabs and Regs are faithful floss readers. Snivellus too, for that matter. Please, oh please, tell me that they are, even if you have to lie to me, James.”�

He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t know,”� stated Potter in a stern voice. He took his arms from his face and sat up on his elbows. “I just know that a lot of birds and some lads like this sort of crap.”�

“Crap?”� echoed Peter. He blinked, confused. “So you **don’t** like it?”�

“No.”�

“And you write it?”� Pettigrew sounded amazed.

“What?”� Lupin and Black said in unison.

“I hate it,”� spat Potter. His aversion was made plain for them to see and hear. “I bloody hate it.”�

Lupin, Pettigrew, and Black traded looks of concern and puzzlement. “Then why...?”� started Remus.

James sighed again, this time in something that sounded like defeat, and told them, “It’s because...one of the girls who likes it...is Lily.”�

The three Marauders boggled and stared at Potter. “No...”� began Lupin.

“Never...”� started Pettigrew.

“Evans likes this crap?”� demanded Black incredulously. He thought on this information for a moment and then grinned wolfishly. “That’s brilliant.”� He clapped his hands together gleefully, and James immediately appeared disgusted. “That’s just **brilliant**. I can’t wait to use that one.”�

At this, James started to panic. “You can’t. You can’t use it. You can’t tell anyone. Sirius, please.”�

Lupin cast a look around them. “Prongs, mate, we’re in the middle of the bloody Courtyard, or haven’t you noticed? We’ve managed a bit of an audience.”�

Potter’s face darkened. “These berks have better gossip than us prats acting like wallys,”� James muttered sullenly.

“Prats?”� repeated Peter, his already wide eyes bulging.

“Wallys?”� added Black, turning a dangerous shade of red.

“YES.”� Potter snatched the parchment from Sirius’ hand and hurriedly rolled it up. He pointed a finger at Pettigrew, whose face paled. “Wally.”� Then he pointed at Lupin. “Wanker.”� Lupin’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. Then James directed a finger at Black. “Git.”� Black promptly gave him the fingers. Potter finally turned his index finger on himself. “Prat.”� He shook his head. “Lily doesn’t know that I write...this. I use a pen name. No one other than the three of you knows that I write this, and that’s the way I want to keep it.”�

Sirius managed an inelegant grunt, stretching his body out and leaning back on one elbow. “You should take more pride in your floss,”� he commented dryly.

James grimaced at him and shook his head. “Sod off, Padfoot. I hate this. I hate floss. It’s not what I want to be doing.”� He quickly got to his feet and began to walk away from his friends, but stopped to face them. “I’m certainly not going to stand here, defending crap like this to you when I can’t even defend it to myself. Lily likes it, that’s all I know, and it was good enough…until you lot had to take this bloody parchment. It was hard enough to slave over in the first place. Now, knowing that you know…”� He rolled his eyes, made a noise of frustration, and then stalked off.

His friends looked to one another in disbelief. Black shrugged and lay on his back, stretching. Lupin glared at him while Pettigrew watched Potter stalk off toward the other end of the Courtyard.

“We have to stop him.”�

“From writing ever again? Damn straight, Moony, and you, mate, are the one for the job.”�

“Shut it, you ignorant git. We’ve got to stop James. We’ve got to fix this.”� When Sirius didn’t even bat an eyelid, Lupin growled and said, “Fine, I’ll fix this.”� Lupin rose to his feet and nodded at Pettigrew. “Wormtail, you coming or not?”� Then he spun round on one heel and followed Potter.

Peter looked from Remus to Sirius and back again before saying, “Sorry. But we do have to fix this. I think James is really, um, mad this time.”� Then he darted off after Lupin and followed him.

Black was left to lie in the grass to ponder his next move. He folded his arms beneath his head and stared at the sky. He watched the clouds overhead, idly tapping his foot against the ground. “Candyfloss. Ridiculous,”� he muttered. “Utter crap. Not my fault that the prat is embarrassed at writing it. He well should be. Shameful. Ought to have a bit more pride than that. And all for Evans. I thought you were over her, Potter. You been pinin’ all this bloody time?”� He tutted under his breath. “Not good, Prongs, not good.”� Sirius closed his eyes for a moment. “If you hate it so bloody much, why go through the trouble? All for Evans…Evans…”� He sighed loudly and opened his eyes. “For Evans. You lovesick sod.”� He rolled over and onto his feet and ran after the rest of the Marauders. “The crap I do for you, Prongs…”�

 

**”**


	2. Draft Two: Or, But I Need A Break...

**Title:** Parchment Scroll Writer: Draft Two [ II / III ]  
 **Author:** **_carondelet_** // **_carondelet11_**  
 **Character(s) / Pairing:** Lily Evans/James Potter  
 **Rating:** PG-13 (mild language)  
 **Notes:** originally published 17 February 2005 \\\ 1442  
 **Word Count:** 3,937  
 **Spoilers:** Books 1-5  
 **Summary:** He found himself wishing that Lily Evans knew the real him. Not Prongs, not Jamie the Chaser, not that Potter git, but **him**.  
 **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters, settings, and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling as published by, including and not limited, to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The use of these characters and settings is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement is intended or should be inferred.

 

**___________________________________________**

**PARCHMENT SCROLL WRITER**

[] DRAFT TWO: OR, BUT I NEED A BREAK...

**___________________________________________**

 

**He was seething** and he believed that he had every right to seethe.

How dare they.

No, really, how dare they.

_How bloody dare they._

“How dare they!”� James Potter shouted to the Commons in general and to the tailing Marauders in particular. A few students dared to pry their eyes away from their textbooks in order to stare at him. He glowered at them furiously and they immediately turned away to avoid his wrath. “Bloody ickle firsties,”� he scowled. “Nothing but friggin’ savages in this school.”� To the skies he shouted again, “HOW DARE THEY!”�

“How, um, dare who?”� asked a wheedling voice from behind him.

Potter stopped in his tracks, spun round, and narrowed his eyes at Pettigrew. “How. Dare. You,”� he snapped. “You, Wormy, and you, Moony,”� he added, pointing a finger at Lupin. “And especially you, Paddy.”� He stuck his fingers up at the approaching Black.

Sirius did a double take as he realised that he had been called _Paddy_ (he was quite used to getting the fingers, so that elicited no reaction). Sirius readily acknowledged that he had been called many names by many people (and magical creatures) in his short lifetime, but he had never before been called Paddy. The indignation he felt slowly spread itself across his features, creasing his brow, wrinkling his nose, curling his lips, setting his chin. Black stopped in his tracks and blinked at Potter, absorbing the name and pondering its implications. He then adopted an expression that scared away those first years that had stuck around after Potter’s outburst.

James rolled his eyes, unimpressed, and turned his back on his former mates.

“Oi, come now, that’s no way to be,”� frowned Lupin. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and shuffled his feet.

Potter snorted derisively. “The bloody hell it isn’t.”� He started to stalk away from them as fast as he possibly could. Sirius lagged behind, still attempting to process being referred to as _Paddy_. Lupin had no trouble in keeping pace with his long, loping strides, but Pettigrew struggled to stay close behind.

A voice floated to them on the breeze. “You don’t have to get all aggro, _Prongers_...”�

James rolled his eyes again and issued a sharp grunt. “Came to finally, did you? You are barmy to anywhere near me right now, _Padders_.”�

Black easily caught up and strode alongside Potter. “Feeling a bit brassed off still, are you, darling?”�

“Don’t bloody start.”�

“I **shall** bloody start. It’s not our fault you got all cack-handed with your parchment there, mate, falling for the Looky Loo. You only invented the bloody move. What happened, you wake up as a clot this morning?”�

“Why don’t you take a long walk off of the Astronomy Tower, Black?”�

Black ‘hrmph-ed’ at the remark and slowed enough to meet up with Lupin. “Here, Moony, why didn’t you tell me it was James’ time of the month?”� He sent an elbow into Lupin’s midsection.

Lupin cuffed Sirius’ arm and sniffed at the snarky question. “I can hardly keep track of **my** time of the month, Paddy.”�

“Don’t you go and get comfortable with that, you plonker,”� sniped Black, giving Lupin a shove with one hand.

Lupin dutifully shoved back with both hands. “Pillock.”�

“Wazzock.”� Sirius took a lazy swipe at Lupin’s head.

Remus easily ducked his attack and retaliated by slapping Sirius in the back of the head.

Black reacted by punching Lupin in the soft of his stomach.

Lupin managed to stomp on Black’s foot.

And that is how the Second Wizard War started.

Pettigrew, who had been observing the exchange, desperately, yet wisely, scrambled out of the way.

Black howled in pain and promptly kicked Lupin in the rear with his injured foot, howling again. Lupin was sent sprawling on the ground face first but immediately recovered and scuttled to his feet, sputtering indignities and blades of grass. The yowls of pain issuing from Sirius quickly changed to peals of laughter as he watched Lupin pull turf from his teeth. He was still laughing as Remus chased him across the Commons, though the laughter was soon put to an end as Lupin performed on Black the very same tackle that Potter had taken him out with.

“YOU PONCE!”�

“SHUT YER CAKE HOLE!”�

Then, simultaneously —— _“Canitrei!”� . . . “Divestio!”�_

Potter heard some girls behind him gasping and screeching. “That’s indecent that is!”� bawled one. “Lupin, you’re disgusting!”� shrieked another. And then, “BLACK, PUT SOME BLOODY CLOTHES ON!”�

“WOT’S THE MATTER, LOVE, HAVE YOUR EYES A SEEN THE COMIN’ OF THE GLORY OF THE BLACK FAMILY STONKER?”�

“You’d damn well better not be a comin’, Black,”� muttered someone, “or I’ll turn you into a newt. Pervert.”�

There was a sharp laugh. “You call that ‘ _glory_ ’? **_Hah!_** Your John Thomas is more like a wee Johnny Tommy, isn’t it?”�

“What? AH, DAMMIT! WE’RE IN BLOODY SCOTLAND AND IT’S **COLD** OUT HERE, YOU SCRUBBER!”�

“Excuses, excuses, Sirius, no wonder the family disowned you!”�

“STUFF IT, NARCISSA, YOU DIVVY SLAG!”�

“Come here and try and make me, Sirius!”�

“OI, THAT’S IT, YOU...”�

“Oh, Merlin, no, Paddy, you’re starkers,”� gasped Lupin. “Don’t move another step!”�

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO HEXED MY ROBES OFF, MOONY! AND STOP CALLING ME PADDY!”�

Potter sighed, rolled his eyes at the noise (and made a vow to **stop** rolling his eyes, as they were now hurting him from the repeated activity), and kept walking. He heard a muffled thump and then a stifled yell from behind him.

“Wot’s that?”� yelped Sirius.

“ _Justputmydamnrobeson_ ,”� snapped Remus.

“You are a stuffed shirt, Moony.”�

“And you need to put one on, Padfoot.”�

“You’re the one who hexed it off of me. Along with my robes, my jumper, my tie, my trousers, my unmentionables...”�

“You weren’t, um, wearing your tie,”� said Pettigrew.

“Wasn’t I?”� asked Black in return.

“No, erm, you had stuffed it in your, um, pocket. After Potions.”�

“Hmm. So I did.”�

“After Wormtail spilled his _Peculium_ concoction on it...”�

“That was never my fault!”�

Potter suppressed the urge to scream his bloody lungs out from frustration and quickened his pace in an attempt to outdistance himself from the starkers Black, the white-haired Lupin, and the stammering Pettigrew.

He walked across the width of the Commons to their tree, the oak tree that the Marauders had claimed at the edge of the mall, and settled himself in amongst the roots. There was a lovely niche between two large roots in particular that was most comfortable and had come to be his spot. It was so much his spot in that he had carved something into the crux of the two roots: Prongs + Phoenix.

Of course, it was done very discreetly, so his mates wouldn’t know about it. He couldn’t have that. He’d never hear the end of it.

James Potter could sometimes display flashes of great brilliance, though he was loathe to allow the rest of Hogwarts in on that fact. His former mates knew that he was very intelligent (and a damned fine wizard to boot), but as far as the rest of Hogwarts knew, he was just a prat on a broom who kept his hair carefully wind-swept and pulled the odd wheeze or twenty.

He found himself wishing that Lily Evans knew the real him. Not Prongs, not Jamie the Chaser, not that Potter git, but **him**.

And certainly not the wanker who wrote that damned candyfloss. If only she didn’t fancy it so much…he wanted her to know the real him, not the candyfloss writer. Granted, she didn’t know that it was him, but…if she didn’t like what he really wrote, his real voice…it was hopeless.

_Bloody hopeless._

He sighed loudly and regarded the scroll in his hands with a degree of sadness. “I hate floss,”� he mumbled. “I’m sorry, Lily, I know you like it, but I do hate it.”�

“Ah, she’ll understand, Jamie.”� Remus came around the trunk and seated himself to Potter’s right.

Potter threw his head back against the tree and keened, “DEAR MERLIN, WOULD YOU LOT JUST LET ME DIE IN PEACE?”� Then he rubbed the back of his head. “Ow…”�

“And have you go just by sittin’ here, poutin’ yourself to death? Never.”� Sirius came round the opposite side and sat to Potter’s left. “We’ve a much more glamorous end in mind for you.”�

Pettigrew sidled into the frame of James’ vision and gingerly sat himself at the end of the largest root, by Potter’s right foot. “Yeah, um, there are better ways to shuffle off this mortal coil than, ah, by pining away.”�

Potter snorted at that. At the edge of his periphery he saw Black bundling himself in Lupin’s robes. He immediately felt a wave of compassionate revulsion. “Eurgh, mate…and he’s all…with his bait and tackle…”�

“I know, I know,”� Lupin moaned. “I’ll never wear that robe again. It’s been…compromised.”�

“That’s nasty, that is,”� agreed Pettigrew. “I don’t think the House Elves could ever get it right for you.”�

“No, I’ll always know what was…swinging…hanging…rubbing…I’m after being sick now.”�

“You sodding bastards do know I am sitting right here, yeah?”� Sirius pulled a face, wrapped the robes even tighter around him, and crossed his legs. “Bloody unfair.”�

“Tell me about it,”� grumbled James, who barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

The foursome sat in silence, Pettigrew trying to look everywhere except at Black, Black trying to look comfortable wearing nothing but a robe, Lupin shaking his head at the loss of the aforementioned robe, and Potter again pining away.

The silence was broken by a low chuckle. “My, my, my, what a pathetic band of wankers…”�

Black growled at the sound of the voice. “And here I was, hoping that you’d died. Or gone to Birmingham.”�

“Why would I do either, you stupid git? Both would cause you pleasure and I bloody well don’t want that.”�

“Did _Narcissy_ go running to you?”� Sirius flicked a glance upwards. “Pathetic. Go and bugger off, _Reggie_. She’s a big girl now.”�

“She is a big girl, and I can’t be fagged to clean up after her or you, prick.”� Regulus Black glared down at his half-brother, who lovingly returned the poisoned stare in kind. “And just what in the hell are you four nancys so morose over? Did another batch of miserable Muggles join the choir invisible?”�

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, you sanctimonious cretin. Never you mind, just keep your in-bred konk out of our business.”�

Regulus’ companions, Evan Rosier and Rabastan Lestrange, offered bitter laughs.

“Be careful when you mention in-breeding, Sirius — you **are** related to Regulus,”� Rosier intoned in his clipped voice. At that both Blacks shot him filthy glares. “And about ‘ _our business_ ’,”� he continued, “would ‘ _our_ ’ be in reference to the…Marauders, that is how you refer to yourselves, correct? Most charming appellation, that.”�

“Shove it, poofter,”� growled Sirius.

“Oh, how droll. Ever the dim wit, Sirius,”� sighed Rosier, putting on a completely unaffected air.

“Don’t call him that, call him by his real name, _Blood Traitor_ ,”� offered Lestrange.

At this, Lupin joined in the conversation. “Ah, the blouse speaks. Are you sure you have permission, Lesser Lestrange?”�

“I am **not** the lesser Lestrange. The Lestrange family is a bloody lot more noble than your family could ever hope to be, _Loony Lupin_.”�

“Oh, now, that was cutting,”� snapped Sirius, getting to his bare feet. “Pardon us as we bleed from your razor-wit. Did you just come up with that one or did you have that written down on a bit of parchment, hidden in your robes?”�

That served to antagonize Rabastan even further, just as Sirius had hoped. “I don’t have to take this from a _traitor_ ,”� Lestrange bit back, edging closer to Sirius.

“Why, are you going to owl that berk of a big brother? ‘ _Oh, Roddy, that nasty Black boy is being ever so mean to me…_ ’”�

“Stuff it, _traitor_.”�

“Make me, _Rabsy_.”�

“It is not worth even touching him, Rabastan, believe me, you might catch something,”� Regulus said darkly.

“Oh, you’ll catch something, all right, my fist to your soft little head,”� muttered Lupin.

Rosier’s hand started to creep towards his robes. In a flurry of movement, Potter was on his feet and had his wand pointed at Rosier. “Gentlemen, please. Rest your sphincters,”� James intoned sweetly. To Rosier he said, “Tut, tut, Evan,”� he said with a smile. “That would not be sporting now, would it?”�

The three Slytherin had been caught flat-footed. James had kept himself out of their dispute and had ostensibly become invisible. James would have liked to ascribe his plan as all due to his natural cunning, but in fact he had been pining away for Lily again. And her legs. _Her legs…_ He had not paid one whit of attention to the back and forth. Regardless of how he had gained the advantage, it remained that neither Regulus nor Evan nor Rabastan were close to reaching their own wands. Rosier blinked at Potter and slowly moved his hand away from his robes, at the gentle direction of Potter, who motioned to him using his wand.

“No, I suppose it would not be sporting,”� Rosier stated in a flat voice.

“Swotty prat,”� Regulus muttered.

“Yeah, well, this swotty prat just beat your poofter mate to a draw. Won’t that come handy in a duel,”� Sirius laughed, slapping Potter on the back.

“It won’t happen again,”� Rabastan scowled.

Remus, Sirius, and James all arched their eyebrows at the Slytherin and clucked their tongues. “Ooh, look, he’s fierce, innit he?”� crowed Sirius in his best Pepperpot voice.

Remus draped an arm over Sirius’ shoulder and leaned in against him. “He’s so dishy when he’s after being hard,”� he said in his own Pepperpot.

Potter placed his arm over Sirius’ free shoulder and joined in by saying, “In a few short years our little Rabastan will be a man, all ripe for the taking,”� and he tapped the tip of his wand against his lip suggestively.

Rabastan Lestrange’s face visibly paled. “You are touched, Potter.”�

“Hmm, not yet, dearie, but I do have high hopes in sussing you out…those robes don’t hide much, do they…”�

“Bollocks to this. You bloody friggin’ perverts, you can have one another.”� Regulus began to stalk off. “Blood traitor!”� he called out over his shoulder.

Sirius made a rather vulgar kissing noise in response.

Rosier sighed; one of his trademarked sighs, and rolled his eyes. “Mentally stimulating, as always…”�

Potter noted with some amusement that no one could quite do the sigh and eye roll like Evan Rosier.

“You have no idea,”� Lupin replied in a voice dripping with feigned lust.

With another eye-roll, Rosier followed Regulus back into the school. Rabastan wordlessly followed, giving two sets of fingers to the Marauders as he walked back across the Commons. Sirius, Remus, and James blew a perfectly timed and perfectly crude raspberry at him.

They waited until their favourite Slytherin had disappeared into the school before separating, Potter and Lupin moving rapidly away from Sirius. “Bloody hell, I didn’t mean to get so close. I forgot you weren’t wearing any knickers,”� Remus mumbled, pushing away from Black.

“Oh, darling, don’t be that way, you know it hurts my feelings so…”� Black made to wrap his arms around Lupin.

“ARGH, GEROFF!”� Remus took a swipe at Black, who stepped aside, laughing and grinning madly.

Black was in full guffaw, holding his sides. He gathered the robes about him, and, still laughing, moved back toward the oak. He placed his hands to either side of his mouth and bellowed, “Oi, Wormy, you can come out from behind the tree now!”� He continued to chuckle as he took his place at the foot of their tree.

A shame-faced Pettigrew came round from the other side of the oak and gingerly crept along his root to sit at the end. “Erm, sorry about, ah, that.”�

As James and Remus took their spots, Remus regarded Pettigrew quizzically. “What happened?”�

“Erm, ah, evened odds and all…Lucius–”�

“You mean _Lussssscioussssssssssss_ ,”� drawled Black, making the ‘s’ sibilant.

“ _My precioussssssssssssss_ ,”� Lupin chimed in.

“The two of you are daft,”� muttered Potter, his expression sour.

“–ah, yes, well, since it was only the three of them this time…”� continued Pettigrew.

“Right, you were being gallant,”� finished James, his voice sounding wholly unconvinced. “How you were ever placed in Gryffindor I will never know.”�

“Heart of a lion?”� Pettigrew offered with a meek smile and a shrug.

“An ant-lion, perhaps,”� Lupin sniggered. He picked up a twig and bunged it at Peter, who grinned and made a piggish face at Lupin. Lupin and Potter promptly yelped as Black reached across to punch Lupin in the shoulder, shoving James’ head out of the way in the process.

“Bloody hell, man, you are after being touchy feely today…”� James immediately forgot his annoyance when he followed Black’s other hand, which was outstretched and had the index finger pointed in the direction of the school.

Approaching them was a small group of students.

Female students.

With their robes casually undone.

Showing off their skirts.

More precisely, that precious bit of opalescent satin softness that was beset to one side by woollen socks and to the other by worsted pleats.

“Oh Lily, Lily, Lily, Lily, legs, Lily, Lily…”� babbled Sirius.

“Shut it, that’s my girl,”� seethed Potter, giving him a fierce pinch.

_But_ , he thought to himself, as Black sputtered profanities at him, _the man does have a point_.

Lily Evans, Emmeline Vance, Hestia Jones, Meghan McCormack, Marlene McKinnon, and Alice Pearson approached them, moving in such a fashion that it appeared to Potter as though the girls were walking through honey. Their arms swung to and fro leisurely, and their legs — with the bit of skin above the knee, from where the dark grey socks ended to where the dark grey pleated skirts began — their legs were slowly gliding back and forth, offering paced glimpses of that magical bit of satin, and their hair gently unfurled in waves behind them, kissed by the afternoon breeze, Lily’s hair blazing like the fire of the setting sun, and Potter knew that they all smelled like rain and grass and wildflowers and Lily especially smelled like lavender and bergamot and — 

“What is wrong with you lot?”� asked a voice. It belonged to one Lily Evans. She was standing before them, looking down with an expression of amusement on her face.

“GAH!”� All four Marauders started and would have fallen over if not for the merciful fact that they were sitting on the ground.

James stared up at her in dumbfounded shock, blinking slowly. Sirius had skittered flat against the tree and was in danger of having Remus’ former robes spill apart. The ex-owner of the robes had actually fallen off of the bit of root he had been sitting on and was stupidly gaping up at the girls. Peter was rigid and shock still. For all James knew, someone performed the Petrificus Totalus on him.

“Huh?”� said Remus.

“You. Lot. Whatever is wrong with you?”� Lily asked with a giggle.

_Oh Merlin, she is deadly cute when she giggles_ , James thought.

“W-W-W-We’re…”� stammered Black.

“Yeah…”� added Pettigrew, finally showing signs of life.

“Right,”� said Emmeline Vance, a smile on her face. Out of the side of his eye, James could see Remus still staring stupidly at the girls, except now he was also smiling stupidly.

_Remus is soft for Emmeline Vance, innit he?_

She looked over at Lupin, and then shyly looked away.

_By the looks of things, Vance is soft for him as well. Bravo, mate._

“We were a bit worried. We saw Regulus, Evan, and Rabastan come over here,”� said Alice Pearson.

“That…that was very nice of you, Alice,”� Lupin finally managed.

_Bloody hell, Remus is also soft for Pearson? Make up your bloody mind, man._

James noticed that Lily had cocked her head at Sirius. “I don’t mean to pry,”� she began, with a hint of a smile, “but why aren’t you wearing any shoes…or socks…or…anything other than a robe, Sirius?”�

He finally relaxed his position and pointed at Lupin. “That berk hexed my clothes off of me.”�

“Then where’d the robe come from?”� asked Hestia Jones.

“The very same berk,”� replied Lupin.

Lily shook her head and laughed, and withdrew her wand. With a graceful flick of her wrist she said, “ _Convestio_.”� Sirius’ clothes were restored, from his shoes to his tie (which appeared in his trouser pocket) to his own robe, which appeared beneath Lupin’s robes.

Sirius looked down at his restored garments, blinked, and then grinned wolfishly at Lily. “You are handy to have around, Evans.”� He started to extract himself from Remus’ school robes.

“Don’t get used to it, Black,”� she smirked.

Black flung the robes at Remus’ head. Remus reacted as if stung. “Bloody hell, _Scougify_ it first, you heathen!”� Sirius just grinned at him. Lupin shot him an especially foul look.

Emmeline knelt down next to Lupin and gingerly took the robes from him. “Don’t worry, I can take care of it for you,”� she said softly.

There was a snort from the group. “How lady-like,”� commented Black. He promptly received a lady-like set of the fingers from Meghan McCormack.

“Dammit, Ems,”� she said, “he can bloody do a _Scourgify_ himself.”�

“But it’s no bother, Meg.”� She performed the spell and handed the robe back to Lupin. “There you are. All sorted.”�

“Thank you,”� he smiled goofily. Remus looked to be on the verge of blushing.

“Why is your hair white?”� asked Emmeline, who kept looking shyly to the side.

“Oh, that…Sirius hexed it.”� Remus wore the same goofy smile again.

It was at that point that James decided he had all that he could take. It was horrible enough he had to write floss; he was going to be damned if he had to be witness to it in action. He clambered to his feet, straightened his robes, and gave a perfunctory bow to the ladies present. “If you’ll excuse me…”� He started to walk back toward the school. Then he paused, turned round with his wand in hand, and pointed it at Remus’ head. “ _Recreario_ ,”� he said in a clear voice, and then headed across the Commons.

Sirius and Remus blinked at one another as Remus’ hair went from the hexed white back to his normal sandy brown. “What the bloody hell…?”� Black murmured, staring after Potter.

Remus was completely nonplussed. “What happened?”�

“I would dare to say that James reversed the hex on your hair, Remus,”� answered Lily wryly. She looked down and spotted a rolled up scroll of parchment. “Hmm, what’s this? Is it his?”� she asked, pointing in the direction of the departing Potter. She had used the scroll to point at him.

“Bloody hell, yeah, that, it belongs to Prongs,”� Black replied absently, digging his school tie from his pocket.

Lily gathered her robes and knelt down, carefully picking up the scroll. She regarded it for a moment, something of a frown on her face. Then she looked from the scroll, then to Potter, then to the scroll again. She turned and said to her friends, “I’ll see you in the Library.”� She flashed a smile at the remaining Marauders. “Goodbye, boys, try not to cast any hexes we can’t fix.”� Then she started to run after James.

The three boys looked to one another, shrugged in unison, and then turned their attentions to Lily’s friends. “So, ah, ladies, what are you doing this afternoon?”� inquired Pettigrew, using his most winsome voice and smile.

 

**”**


	3. Draft Three: Or, But I Want To Be A...

**Title:** Parchment Scroll Writer: Draft Three [ III / III ]  
 **Author:** **_carondelet_** // **_carondelet11_**  
 **Character(s) / Pairing:** Lily Evans/James Potter  
 **Rating:** PG-13 (mild language)  
 **Notes:** originally published 21 February 2005 \\\ 2246  
 **Word Count:** 3,115  
 **Spoilers:** Books 1-5  
 **Summary:** “Love makes you barmy.”�  
 **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters, settings, and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling as published by, including and not limited, to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The use of these characters and settings is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement is intended or should be inferred.

 

**___________________________________________**

**PARCHMENT SCROLL WRITER**

[] DRAFT THREE: OR, BUT I WANT TO BE A...

**___________________________________________**

 

**It didn’t take** long for Lily to catch up to him. He wasn’t exactly walking very quickly. James seemed to be a bit lost in thought. This occurred to her when her repeated and varied utterances of his Christian name and surname garnered no response.

So it came as no surprise to her that, when she did catch up with him and then tapped him on the shoulder, he fairly leapt into the air with a yelp.

“GAH!”� he shouted for the second time that day. When he regained himself, James Potter was horrified to see Lily Evans standing in front of him, laughing heartily.

“I’m sorry, James,”� she gasped, “but that was priceless.”�

He put on a pout and folded his arms. “That’s as maybe. It is not very nice, frightening me like that.”�

“I did say I was sorry. Besides, I’ve been calling your name clear across the Commons.”� She shook her head and smiled at him.

“You didn’t hear me.”� — “I didn’t hear you,”� they said in unison.

“Sorry,”� they said again as one.

They both laughed at that, and Lily held the parchment scroll out to him. “Is this yours? It was left over by the oak tree.”�

The smile disappeared from his face and Potter’s eyes widened at the sight. The parchment. **His** parchment. Her floss. _Did she…?_ “Crap,”� he said weakly. He took the scroll from her and shook his head. “Um, sorry, Lily, I mean, thanks.”�

“Convincing, that was,”� she smiled. James managed a vaguely apologetic face. She nodded and then took him by the arm. “Come along.”�

His eyes widened again. “Where are we going?”�

“Here,”� she said. They had walked across the Commons into an exterior hallway of the school. They were now on the other side of one of the many columns. “They were staring at us,”� she said with a slight frown.

“Who…?”� began James and leaned from behind the column to have a butcher’s. He saw the Marauders and her friends eagerly looking in their direction. Their faces visibly brightened at the sight of him, so he quickly dodged back behind the column. “Right. Them.”�

“Yes.”� She leaned against the column as she shook her head. “I’d prefer that we didn’t have an audience.”�

“Okay.”� James wondered what she meant by that.

She shifted position and pointed at the scroll. “Is this what you were fighting about earlier?”�

“Hmm?”� He squinted at the parchment, avoiding her gaze. He fully intended to lie and to say that they weren’t fighting earlier, just fooling about, but then he glanced at her, saw her brilliant emerald green eyes, and said, “Yes.”� _Damn._ “I wasn’t going to tell you that. Why is it that I can’t ever lie to you?”� he asked. Then he blinked. He shocked himself in saying that aloud.

“It’s a skill that I have,”� she murmured. Lily shifted again and folded her arms across her chest.

_It’s her eyes. It has to be her eyes. Every time I look in them…_ “I’ll say it’s a skill,”� he sighed.

“So…what’s on the scroll?”� she inquired, a sly smile on her face.

_Right, if I don’t look in her eyes, I won’t have to tell her what’s on the scroll. The thing to do here is to not look in her eyes. Don’t look in her eyes, Potter. Just don’t look in those green eyes…_

_Damn._

“Something I wrote,”� he mumbled. He diverted his eyes down and away from Lily.

“Would you tell me what it is?”� She sounded like she was smiling again.

James made it a point to keep his eyes averted and stared at the stone floor. He was determined not to look up at her, and especially determined to not look in her eyes again. He tried to find something to hold his attention. _Shoes. Shoes, shoes, shoes. Hello, shoes. You’ll be my friends, won’t you, shoes? You won’t let me look into her eyes. No, shoes, you wouldn’t do that to me. You won’t let me down. Oh, look there are Lily’s shoes. Hello, Lily’s shoes. Her shoes are always polished. I’ll wager she cleans and polishes them every night before she goes to bed. And there are her socks. Her socks are always pulled up to her knees, very prim and proper. And there are her knees. Oh, Merlin. Those are nice knees. Those are very nice knees indeed. Not knobbly or anything of the sort. Dad’s knees are all knobbly. Lily doesn’t have knees like Dad. Thank Merlin for that. And there’s her skirt. Her skirt is always nicely pressed. The pleats are always so neat and perfect. Just like her. And there is her jumper. Hello, jumper. Warm, woolly jumper. And her shirt collar, all starched and proper. I wonder if the House Elves do that for her or if she does it herself? I’ll bet she does it herself, just like she polishes her shoes herself. There’s her necktie. A perfect little four-in-hand knot. How did she learn to square a tie like that? And then there’s her chin…such a perfect little chin…and then her lips…she has very pink lips…right under a very cute nose…so petite…and then…_

_Damn._

“Um, if you really want to know what it is,”� he heard himself say to her, “I’ll tell you.”�

_I did not just say that._

“I’d love to know what it is.”�

_Of course you would._ “It’s, um, it’s…it’s, ah…”�

“Candyfloss?”�

_Ohdamncrapdamn._

“No, it’s parchment,”� he said dumbly, staring at his shoes. _That was bloody brilliant, Potter._

“James…”� She reached out and touched him on the wrist. “I know it’s parchment. And you know what I mean when I call it candyfloss.”�

“I do?”� He refused to look up, but his eyes did dart over to where Lily was holding his wrist.

She took a step closer to him. James knew because he saw her polished shoes take a step toward his scuffed ones. He was slightly bothered at how shabby his shoes looked next to hers. “You write candyfloss. You’re Beatrix Jacobs.”�

His eyes widened, his head snapped up and James found himself staring into those green eyes. “How…how did you know? I never told anyone. I was careful with…and I was well chuffed when I came up with that name. I was certain no one would ever suss it.”�

“Well, it did take me a little while to figure it out,”� Lily said as a hint of a blush crept onto her cheeks. “It is rather clever. It came to me one night while studying. It was all reference, I came to see. You’d inverted and corrupted your name. _Beatrix_ was a reference to Beatrix Potter, and James is alliteration to the Late Latin name _Jacob_.”�

Potter stood there for a moment, utterly gobsmacked. Then he finally said, “You **are** the brightest witch of your age, just like Professor McGonagall says.”�

Her blush deepened. “I’m not that terribly bright. I mean, it did take me three months to figure out the name.”�

“Don’t feel too badly; I’m much more clever than I look,”� he joked half-heartedly.

“Yes, you are,”� she answered, sounding and looking rather serious.

James found that his mouth had gone suddenly dry.

“So,”� they said in concert.

“You first,”� he offered.

“Thank you.”� Lily appeared to realise that she was still holding his wrist and she tentatively released him. James felt his heart literally sink into his stomach at that. “You…you seemed a bit embarrassed when I asked if you’d written floss. Why is that?”�

Potter swallowed with some difficulty and said, “It’s because I hate it.”�

She seemed quite surprised at his statement. “Hate it,”� she echoed. “How so?”�

“I hate thinking it up, I hate reading it, and I especially hate writing it.”� He was staring into her eyes. It wasn’t as though James had any choice in the matter. He had to tell her what he thought of the floss, and the truth, at that. “I’m sorry, Lily, I know you like it, but I can’t stand the stuff.”�

Her forehead creased into a frown and James felt his heart slip down into the heel of his left shoe. “Then why do you write it? You’ve been writing this for ages now. I remembered hearing about Beatrix Jacobs at the start of term.”�

“Well, I write it because…”� He paused, attempted to summon up the courage he was quite certain he’d forgotten someplace, and finally told her, “I write it because you like it, Lily.”�

She blinked at him.

He blinked at her.

Then she laughed.

He puckered his brow at that.

She laughed a great, consuming, full-fledged laugh, one that soon had her grasping the column they were hiding behind for support.

His brow puckered even more at that.

“I’m sorry,”� she panted between laughs.

“Not nearly as much as I am,”� he replied bitterly. He clutched the scroll tightly in his fist and started to march away.

“No, James, you don’t understand…”�

“Don’t I? It’s all right, Lily, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”� Everything in his voice and his body language practically screamed that it wasn’t fine, but he wasn’t looking at her, so he didn’t have to tell her the truth.

“Dammit, Potter, look at me.”� She took him by the wrist and turned him roughly around. She threw him against the column and blocked off any possible escape routes. As he had yet no idea of how to Apparate, and as Apparition was impossible at Hogwarts, James found himself quite trapped.

“That hurt,”� he snapped at her, too angry to notice how very close she was to him.

“Good, I hope it knocked some sense into you.”� She matched his tone and his expression.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”�

“It means you are going to stop being stroppy and you are going to stand there and hear me out.”�

“I’m not being stroppy,”� he pouted, staring at her necktie.

“James?”� She gently took him by the chin and arched his face upwards.

“I’ll stop being stroppy,”� he murmured, staring into her eyes.

She made a low-throated noise of satisfaction (one which James swore to himself he would illicit from her on as many occasions as he could possibly manage), and crossed her arms. “Very good, Mr. Potter. Now, as I was trying to tell you…you misunderstood why I was laughing. I wasn’t laughing at you…I was laughing at the irony of it all. I was laughing because I don’t like floss.”�

“Pardon?”�

“I don’t like floss.”�

“I’m sorry?”�

“I don’t like floss, James.”�

“I don’t think I heard…”�

“James?”� Lily was grinning at him.

“Yes?”�

“I. Don’t. Like. Floss.”�

“You…”� James titled his head and thought for a moment. “You don’t like floss?”�

“No.”� She started to laugh.

“But…why do you read it, then? Why did I hear that you loved it?”�

“Because…”� She was giggling now. “Because I knew that you wrote it. That’s why I read it, that’s why I love it.”�

“You…you…blow me,”� he finally said. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I don’t believe this, I’ve been labouring over this for months now, and you don’t even like it?”� He was incredulous, but he was smiling at her.

“I like that you write it. I like that you can write. I like that you can think like this. I’m just not partial to floss.”� She smiled at him, a smile that made his toes curl, and asked, “Who told you that I liked floss?”�

“It was, ah, Amelia Bones.”�

Lily snorted, though James didn’t find that unattractive in the least. “She wouldn’t have any idea of what I would or wouldn’t like when it comes to reading material, trust me on that.”�

“Okay,”� he said with a small smile. His heart rose from the heel of his shoe to his belly button.

She giggled at that, something that he also swore to himself he would cause to happen as often as possible. Lily regarded him warmly, and James felt his heart take its place back in his chest. “What do you like to write?”�

“Um…”� He bit his lower lip shyly. “I prefer to write…well, some of the things can be a bit…beastly. Some a bit aggro. Others, mostly, fairly involved. I like mysteries and drama. Serious pieces.”�

“Everything that isn’t floss,”� she added.

“Everything that isn’t floss,”� he smiled.

They stood there for a moment, James leaning against the column, Lily standing before him, both smiling at one another in companionable silence.

“Well, now —”� they said in unison.

“We keep doing that,”� smiled Lily.

“Yes, we do,”� agreed James.

“I don’t mind,”� she told him.

“Neither do I,”� he said softly.

Lily stared at him, and James thought that his legs would turn to blancmange or something else, something equally flaccid. _What is she thinking? Now it’s out in the open...everything’s out in the open…she must know that I fancy her, I mean, I’ve been writing bloody floss for her…oh, Merlin, please, say something Lily._

“James?”�

“Yes?”� His voice croaked unexpectedly and he shut his eyes in embarrassment.

James was relieved when he didn’t hear her laugh at him. “Do you think…that I could perhaps…read something else that you’ve written?”�

He opened his eyes and stared at her in surprise. “You want to read something else I’ve written?”�

Lily smiled at his repetition of her words. “Yes.”�

A grin spread across his face and he nodded. “I’d like that. No, I’d love that. Very much.”�

“I was hoping you’d say that. Thank you.”�

“I’ll bring along some scrolls to the Library?”�

“The Library? Oh. Right. Well…”� She cast a wayward glance behind her. “It might be…a little awkward. Loads of questions. And I don’t think you want the school to know about this?”� she asked, pointing to the parchment he clutched in his hand.

“Oh? No. No. Good thinking. No, I’d rather that no one knew. I mean, Sirius, Remus, and Peter know, and you. Those three can be berks, but they are my best mates. They know that I am serious about writing.”�

“I’m glad. You are lucky to have them as your friends.”� Lily started to slowly back away from him. “So we’ll meet in the Common Room after Dinner, then?”�

“Yeah. I mean, yes. Yes, in the Common Room, after Dinner.”�

“Brilliant. I’ll see you then, James.”� She smiled at him, that smile that made his toes curl, and turned to walk away.

“See you then, Lily,”� he called after her. She turned and gave him a smile and a wave. He managed a goofy smile and limply waved in return. As she walked away, he collapsed against the column. “Oh, Merlin. What…crap, what will I give her to read? Dammit, I’ve got to think now.”� He frantically started to go over his mental inventory of stories written thus far, searching for the most suitable scrolls. He was at the verge of a full-blown panic when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching. James looked up to see that Lily was walking toward him.

He quickly moved away from the wall and attempted to look casual.

“James,”� she said breathlessly, “do you think that you might…write something…for me?”�

“Huh?”� he said.

“I know that the floss was meant for me but…do you think…you could…I mean…something for me?”� There was a blush tingeing Lily’s cheeks to soft pink. It made her eyes even greener.

James gulped loudly and stammered, “Y-y-y-y-yes. Yes. I’d love to. For you. Yes. Write something. Just for you. Not floss. Yes.”�

She beamed at him, deftly stepped forward, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. James found himself blinking through his glasses at her as she kissed him. He was fortunate in that his body reacted of its own accord and returned the innocent kiss. Lily withdrew, smiled at him again, and said, “Thank you.”� Then she quickly headed back down the corridor with a giggle.

A thought occurred to him, and he was only just able to voice it. “But…what should I write about?”�

“Whatever comes to your mind,”� her reply floated back to him.

James tilted his head as he watched her depart, his eyes wide and his jaw drooping slightly. When she disappeared from view, he blinked, and then finally came to. He started to pat down his robes, looking for a quill. “Bugger. My desk. Right.”� Potter started running down the hallway, headed for the Gryffindor tower. He had to get to his desk. He had to get a new roll of parchment, a new quill, and some ink. He needed to start writing straightaway. He dodged a group of Second Years and nearly collided with Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

“Bloody hell!”� chirruped Lupin.

“Sorry!”� he called over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?”� asked Peter.

“To our dorm…!”� he answered, still running.

“What for?!?!”� demanded Black.

Potter spun and ran backwards. He spread his arms out from his sides, flashed a tremendous grin at his mates, and yelled, “TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR LILY!”� Then with a laugh and a leap he turned round and disappeared into the school.

The three Marauders cocked their heads to one side in unison and stared at the doorway that Potter had just vanished through.

“Do you think…?”� started Peter.

“Yeah,”� answered Sirius.

“So he’s…?”� began Remus.

‘Yeah,”� replied Black.

There was a moment of silence. “Well,”� Pettigrew and Lupin said at length, in harmony.

“Yeah,”� responded Sirius.

They blinked at the doorway.

“Love makes you barmy,”� mumbled Sirius.

“Right, then. What’s next?”� asked Peter, rubbing his hands together.

Black grunted. “Indeed. Where’s Snivellus?”�

“Good question.”� Remus gave the air a sniff and shrugged. “Dunno, but I don’t think he’s anywhere near.”�

Black gave the air a snuffle as well. “No, he’s not nearby.”� He tipped the wink to Lupin. “I think it’s high time we found him, Moony.”�

He grinned. “Agreed, Padfoot.”�

“We can start in the Library. He oftentimes will be at a table by the Restricted Section,”� offered Pettigrew.

“Good man, Wormtail. We’ll start there.”� Sirius and his mates started for the Library, the latest Marauder mission set (albeit sans Prongs). Black lagged behind to cast an introspective gaze at the doorway where he last saw James. He thought about the grin that was on the swotty prat’s face… Sirius shook his head and his lips curled into a wry smile. “You lovesick sod,”� he murmured, “good on you, Prongs. Good on you.”� He jogged to catch up to his mates and manoeuvred to walk between Lupin and Pettigrew, clasping them by the shoulders. “Now, gents, what to do with Snivellus when we find him…?”�

 

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